The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was dinner time when Sarah finally made it home. Shew as on the phone as she walked in, checking that Madison was alright. It didn’t matter that she’d dropped her friend off at her home only a few minutes before. Not friend, girlfriend, Sarah reminded herself. Something about that thought sent a warm shiver through her. Talking to her girlfriend on the phone. Little whispered endearments.

Maybe someday it would be Helen.

Who couldn’t know anything about Sarah’s new relationship. For so many reasons.

After a last goodbye, Sarah hurriedly ended the call.

Helen was already sitting at the dinner table as their mother bustled about, both of Sarah’s family members still in those matching outfits, lace corsets and skimpy panties, garters holding up stockings, Sarah’s mother in white and Helen in black.

Arousal stirred in the younger daughter’s centre, thoughts of Madison pushed to the back of her mind.

She could feel the need rolling off Helen, her older sister squirming in her seat. It was splashed all over Helen’s face, in her cheeks and her hooded eyes and the way her lips were ever so slightly parted.

Sarah wanted to kiss those lips. Apologise for hurting her sister.

For spanking her.

For leaving the mark of her hand on Helen’s arse.

Sarah didn’t say anything about it. Someone who was in charge didn’t say sorry.

Something told her that.

“Have you kept your hands to yourself?” Sarah asked instead, her voice harsher than she wanted.

She couldn’t let her family see the doubt she felt.

“Yes,” her sister replied, almost a touch of pride in her voice. “So can I?”

Sarah opened her mouth, closed it again. She could let her sister feel that bliss. Watch as her sister came. Imagine the pleasure shooting through Helen.

Imagine what it would feel like to kiss Helen as she came.

She knew now that she wasn’t a bad kisser.

Madison had said so.

“No,” Sarah said. She didn’t think she could control herself if she watched Helen cum.

Instead she a shiver shoot through her sister.

“Here you are, dear,” their mother said, placing a plate in front of Sarah.

Leaning over as she did, giving Sarah a clear view straight down her mother’s cleavage, those breasts spilling over the top of her corset.

The meal was chicken, something. Sarah couldn’t focus on it. Not with her mother so close.

“I might not have put enough pepper on it,” Rachel mused. “It’s up to you if you want some more. It’s just there,” she added pointing to the pepper grinder where it sat on the table. “You could tell Helen to pass it to you.”

Sarah swallowed nervously. Her mother had said ‘tell’, not ‘ask’.

She could order Helen to give it to her. Make Helen do what she said. Pass her the pepper. Have her sister get her a glass. Of water. Of wine.

Have her sister kneel next to her, hands on thighs, waiting quietly as Sarah ate.

Maybe have her sister open her mouth, Sarah feeding her little tid-bits like she would a good little pet.

Anything.

Helen would be that much more turned on if Sarah gave her an order.

That much closer to cumming.

Sarah reached over the table and grabbed the grinder.

She could almost believe her sister was glaring at her.

She probably wanted Sarah to let her cum.

Helen was still giving her a look mixed of anger and frustration as they finished the meal.

Sarah’s mother pressed against her as Rachel picked up Sarah’s empty plate. Sarah glanced sideways, her eyes drinking in her mother’s breasts. They were so close. It would be so easy to reach out, touch them. Just slide one finger along the exposed flesh. Grab them. Bury herself in them.

Take them.

“Would you like something more?” her mother smiled, not rising up from where she bent over next to her younger daughter. “Maybe now. Or later. Whichever you’d like.”

Rachel lent in closer. Sarah could feel her mother’s breath on her ear, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through her, sparking deep in her body.

“Just let me know,” Rachel whispered. “You can have whatever you want.”

Sarah stared at her mother. She knew exactly what she was being offered. It would be so easy to say yes.

Sarah shot up the stairs to hide in her room.

Sarah’s hand shot into her panties.

She came twice before she called Madison. They talked for ages.

Sarah tried very hard to not think about her family while she talked to her girlfriend. Tried so hard to keep her hand out of her panties.

She didn’t entirely succeed.

After that it took Sarah hours to get to sleep. Wondering what to do about her mother. It would be so easy to say yes. Let her mother do all the things she was promising. But this was her mother. No matter how tempting it was, something still worried Sarah about feeling that way about her mother. Her feelings about Helen were just as confused. Sarah didn’t understand why she wanted to treat Helen like a toy. Why spanking Helen had turned her on so much. She wanted to hold Helen. Kiss her. Like she had Madison. She didn’t understand why the last look on her sister’s face after dinner had been one of anger and annoyance.

And when Sarah did finally fall asleep her dreams were filled with wild images. Of her ordering her sister about. Of Emily. Helen’s friend, on her knees in front of Sarah, her tongue buried so deep in Sarah’s centre, Sarah’s hands twisted in Emily’s silky hair, forcing the older girl’s face into her crotch.

Of Madison. Of her girlfriend, in the same skimpy lingerie her family had been wearing. Teasing her. A wanton look in Madison’s eyes. Madison saying yes to anything Sarah wanted.

Of her mother, posing and primping in front of her, telling her daughter to look at her. Saying that she knew how much Sarah wanted her. That it was alright to want her. That she wanted Sarah just as much. Her mother, hands under her breasts, offering them up. Telling Sarah that she could have everything. Her mother, looming over her, running her hands down Sarah’s body. Her mother kissing her.

Sarah kissing Helen. Ordering Helen to her knees. Images colliding and whirling together, an erotic kaleidoscope.

Her mother, in her work clothes, telling Sarah to undo her blouse. Unzip her skirt. Sarah’s hands fumbling at her mother’s clothes, desperate to touch her mother’s body.

Emily and Madison together, kissing, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies, before they looked at Sarah. Waiting to be told what to do next.

Helen in a collar. A part of Sarah’s mind whispering how that was just like Emily. Dream Helen thanking Sarah for putting a collar on her.

Helen standing in her doorway, with a thoughtful look on her face, in that black lingerie, one hand playing at her own breast as she opened her mouth to speak.

Sarah helping her mother out of her skirt, desire raging through her as she stared at her mother’s body.

As she stared at her mother’s breasts.

Then she was alone, in her room, her mother’s voice calling her. Her feet moving, leading her to her mother. Sarah stumbled in her dream, the hallway bending and twisting.

Her mother, sitting in front of a mirror, in the lingerie she’d worn that day and a gauzy robe. Helen handing her a brush, telling Sarah to brush their mother’s hair. With every stroke electricity burnt in Sarah’s fingers, need curling in her belly.

She wanted her mother.

She wanted her so much.

Helen again, just looking at Sarah. So beautiful. Waiting for Sarah to tell her what to do.

Helen, kneeling at Sarah’s feet. Kissing Sarah’s feet, bolts of pleasure shooting up Sarah’s legs to explode in her pussy.

Her mother was in the corset she’d worn that day. Her mother was telling Sarah how to undo that corset.

Sarah’s mother guiding her to her knees, her mother’s pussy in front of her, everything swimming in the dream vision. Her mother was saying that she knew how much Sarah wanted this. How Sarah had to do this.

Sarah on her knees in front of her mother, licking and kissing, an orgasm threatening to burst over her.

Helen, across her lap, begging for Sarah to smack her.

To tell her what to do.

Wanting it.

Her sister so close to cumming.

Gazing up at Sarah, wearing that collar.

Her mother’s voice in her ear, telling her to give Helen an order. Saying she knew how much that turned Sarah on.

Her mother calling her. Sarah finding her lying on her bed. Waiting for Sarah. Her mother telling her to get in the bed with her. Her mother stroking her breasts, fire burning in her younger daughter, sparks exploding as her mother’s hands ran over diamond-hard nipples. Sarah’s mother telling her to kiss her breasts, lick and nip and suckle, just like she’d done to Sarah. Telling Sarah to slip between her mother’s legs and give in to the pleasure, let it consume her.

“SAARAAAAH!”

Her mother was calling her again, Sarah stumbling out of her bed. Vaguely she noticed that she was wearing nothing but her underwear.

Her mother’s voice was coming from the bathroom. Sarah was halfway there when she realised that her panties were soaked.

“What is it, Mom?” she asked as she opened the door. She didn’t remember speaking to her mother in her earlier dreams. She could hear the shower running. Her mother was in the shower.

“Hi dear,” her mother said, sliding the glass door open. Sarah stared at her mother’s breasts, the full orbs dripping with water. She wanted to touch them. Grope them. Just like in her earlier dreams. “I was just, well,” her mother continued. “I’d like some help.”

Sarah frowned. In the other dreams her mother had been more direct. “What do you mean, Mom?”

Her mother smiled at her. There was more than kindness in that smile. So much more, Sarah’s toes curling. “Well,” her mother said. “I think I would really like it if you came in and helped me wash.”

“What?... no I can’t.” But Sarah took a step into the bathroom and closed the door. This was her mother.

She wanted her mother so much.

“Sarah,” her mother’s voice was gently chiding. “You’re so beautiful. You need to realise that. Just get undressed and get in here. I reeeaallly want you to wash me.”

“I ... but ...” Something was wrong. This didn’t feel like her earlier dreams. But her mother was there, naked. Sarah knew she shouldn’t want this. But she did. It was only a dream.

Sarah pulled down her soaking panties, unclipped her bra and took two steps into the shower.

Her mom pulled her into an embrace and kissed her.

Sarah melted.

The water spilled over them, striking Sarah’s skin, the sensations so clear.

She could feel every inch of her mother’s body, nipples so hard, skin burning.

She could feel everything.

Sarah’s eyes shot wide, her mother’s tongue deep in her mouth, her mother’s hands groping her arse, as she realised that this wasn’t a dream.

“Mom! No!” she cried, trying to draw back.

Her mother didn’t let her go.

“Such a beautiful way to show how much we love each other,” her mother smiled. “I want this. You want this, too.”

Sarah did. She wanted it so much.

Something told her to run. To get away. This was her mother. Mothers and daughters shouldn’t do this.

Her mother was so beautiful. Need was raging through Sarah, her legs shaking.

Her mother was gazing at her, lust burning in her eyes, Sarah standing there, naked.

In front of her mother.

She couldn’t think, her brain fogging with arousal. That part of her mind that wanted Sarah to run was so faint, so small.

Her mother’s body pulled her in, like a magnet

Sarah’s resistance flared and sputtered.

“Now, here’s a washcloth. why don’t you start with my breasts?”

Sarah took the proffered piece of linen. Gently moved her hands to her mother’s breasts. She could feel them, round and heavy and so desirable, her own body aching with need. She couldn’t take her eyes off her mother’s breasts. She wanted them. Wanted everything her mother wanted to give her.

But no matter how much her body was responding, yearning need burning through her, something still told Sarah that this was wrong. Even as she lathered up her mother’s luscious body something needled at Sarah. This was her mother. A little part of her said she shouldn’t be doing this to her mother. It shouldn’t be like this.

“You’re making Mommy feel so good, dear,” her mother smiled.

Sarah didn’t care if this was wrong. It felt so good to have her hands on her mother’s breasts. That it was her mother made it even hotter than it had been with Emily.

Another part of her thought of Helen. Told her that it should be Helen she was with.

Sarah ignored that, too. Ignored the twinge of conscience as she thought of Madison. She was learning so much. How to be gentle and firm at the same time. What was the right pace as she drew the washcloth down her mother’s leg.

All things she’d need to know for when this was Helen.

“Such a good girl,” her mother moaned. “Doing just what she’s told.”

Sarah froze.

That was it. That was what was wrong. Not that she was with her mother. Sarah no longer saw anything wrong with that at all. She wanted her mother. There was no reason she shouldn’t have what she wanted. Lust swirled in her, that it was her mother setting her aflame only making it hotter, darker. Sweeter. But she should be the one in control. Her. Not her mother.

Sarah sprang to her feet from where she’d been soaping her mother’s thigh, the water running over her. Over her face. Running down her back. She could feel each drop as it fell on her. Slipping down between her breasts.

She should be in control.

Sarah grabbed her mother, spun her around and pushed her against the wall of the shower, hard.

An exclamation burst from her mother’s lips but Rachel made no move to resist.

Sarah pressed herself against her mother’s body, squeezing her mother between the wall and her own body.

A moan escaped her mother’s lips, Rachel’s head turned, her cheek up against the wall.

Seizing one of her mother’s arms Sarah yanked it up behind Rachel’s back.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Sarah hissed. “I’m in charge. I’ll do what I want. Like this.”

Almost without thinking Sarah’s other hand had slipped between her mother’s body and the wall.

Found her mother’s pussy.

Rachel’s moan turned guttural as two of her daughter’s fingers pushed inside her.

Sarah’s mother was so wet.

The water slid over the two women, mother and daughter.

“You’re going to cum,” Sarah whispered into her mother’s ear. “You’re going to get off on your daughter’s fingers. Isn’t that right, Mom?” With that last word Sarah forced her mother’s forearm higher.

“Yes,” Rachel moaned. “Fuck yes. Do me! Do your mother! Oh, my little girl! Do it!”

Sarah pushed her mother’s arm even higher. “Shut up!” she cried. “You don’t tell me what to do! You do what I say!”

“Y-yes,” her mother gasped. A third finger was inside Rachel now, Sarah’s hand thrusting in so deep. “God, yes!”

Need pulsed through Sarah, her fingers so deep in her mother, the palm of her hand grinding into Rachel’s clit as her mother bucked and spasmed, caught between her daughter and the wall.

She’d made her mother cum.

The thought almost had her cumming.

She wasn’t going to.

Not yet.

She was in control.

Sarah released her mother’s arm, that hand snaking around to grope her mother’s breasts as her other hand stroked her mother’s opening. Pressed together as they were Sarah could feel the quiver of her mother’s body, still caught in the grip of aftershocks.

“Did you like that?” Sarah crooned, low and close to her mother’s ear. “Cumming on your daughter’s fingers?”

“God, yes,” her mother moaned. “It was so good.”

“Such a hot, dirty, Mommy. Letting your daughter feel you up.” Sarah didn’t know where the words were coming from. But they felt so right. It felt so good to press her centre into her mother’s arse, to tweak her mother’s nipples. “Letting me take you.”

“Yes,” her mother agreed, the word low and husky.

“You’ll let me do it whenever I want,” Sarah hissed.

“Oh God, yes, please,” Rachel whimpered. “Take me, take your mother. Such a good daughter. I love you, Sarah.”

Sarah cold feel the need radiating off her mother. Could hear it in her voice. But she didn’t know if it would last. Maybe her mother would try to take control again.

Sarah knew how to stop that.

“When you’ve dried off and got dressed, come to my room.”

“Yes, Sarah,” her mother agreed. “Oh God, I want you.”

Sarah stepped back, releasing her mother from where Rachel had been caught between her daughter and the wall. Rachel’s hands were against the wall, holding her up as she sagged.

“Give me a few minutes,” Sarah ordered. Her mother probably thought they were going to pick up where they left off.

That wasn’t Sarah’s plan at all.

(To be continued)